


A Taste of You

by alightinspace



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Douchestuck, M/M, POV John Egbert, future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alightinspace/pseuds/alightinspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is John Egbert, and this guy seems to be following you around a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Taste of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to kinda play around with this and see how it goes...  
> I hope it's an alright plot, hehe. I kinda strive to make it go rather far. Not too many chapters, but enough? It's TBD  
> Probably a lot of angst in this fic. And some sadstuck. >> Gomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the formatting error! I promise it isn't like this throughout the whole thing, just this one, because it got screwed up on AO3.   
> Anyways here's the intro! I'm gonna play around with this and see where it goes, hopefully. c:

This wasn't normal. No way was this normal in any way, shape, or form. But then again, when had you ever really been normal?  
Your name is John Egbert, and this guy seems to be following you around a lot. You first saw him, a sandy blonde, black sleek aviators on the bridge of his nose, wearing one of many  
shirts with that weird record symbol on it. He seems to wear a different one everyday, and you probably couldn't count how many he had even if you tried.  
And you were a genius in school- straight A's, honor roll, and in Senior year you were your classes well-respected valedictorian.  
This kid? He was the complete opposite of you. Some little punk that you knew never took anything seriously. You could tell.  
You honestly attempt to understand how the two of you can keep a conversation going for more than a minute.  
You got this job a month ago, and since your second day he has come in every day, the same time. Friday at 4:00 p.m. He would always have the same thing-  
just normal coffee, black. It's gross and you want to desperately add some flavor to it so it won't be bitter and harsh, but to be candid, he himself was pretty bitter  
and harsh. You still hadn't learned his name all this time, but he talks to you, asks you things. Working in a coffee shop is a pretty normal job, right? It shouldn't come with  
some random weirdo you practically hated on top of it.  
You heard the door open and checked the clock, glancing up from the cup you had readied for another customer. At least this person had taste. Cappucino. You snort at that and glance back up. 4:00 p.m.  
"Hey."  
You didn't even have to look behind you to the counter to know who that was. You gave the cup to the man beside your stalker- wait. Stalker? Yeah. He kinda was a stalker.  
You gave him that name because fuck if you knew any other thing to call him. As you returned to the machine, sighing deeply, exhausted, he spoke again.  
"Hey, Egbert. I was talking to you." His voice was sly as always and you could feel the smirk on his lips. Bastard. He loved making your job worse.  
"I know." You replied bitterly, flicking the switch on the coffee maker to start brewing his disgusting coffee for his disgusting face because God, you really  
hated this guy for pestering you. It was a pain in the ass. You weren't much of a talker. Really, you only get chattery when you are drunk, which isn't often. You recall  
a party your friend Rose had had some time ago, and that you got so wasted you couldn't stop talking to someone she had invited. Some family friend or relative or something.  
You barely remembered the events of that night, except for the fact that you somehow ended up making out with them until you passed out. That hangover was so shitty you  
promised yourself you wouldn't get drunk for a long ass time. "Just because I heard you doesn't mean I have to reply."  
He snickered at that, sighing after the laughs subsided. "It'd be nice of you. Don't have to be an asshole."  
That pretty much set you off, and you turned around, glaring at him and shoving his coffee across the counter harshly, hissing the price as you did so.  
"Yeah, yeah. Sheesh, calm the fuck down, dude." He handed over the money slowly, teasing by pulling away so John couldn't have it at first, then slid it to him.  
"Keep the change." And, Jesus Christ, you /hate/ that smile he gives you. You want to punch him in the face, but instead you turn around, hanging up your apron and going into the back to clock out. You insert  
your card, and once you're ready, you whirl back and run into something firm. Or rather, someone.  
"Egbert, can't you watch where the fuck you're going?" Karkat. Karkat Vantas. He's pretty much one of your greatest friends, but he can be a pisspot, for lack of better terms.  
He had grown some since high school, still short at 5'4 where you stood at a 5'7 and a half. You shrugged, giving off a slight chuckle.  
"Yeah, yeah, shorty, I'll watch it next time." You laugh while you open the door, going behind the counter, his obscenities echoing from the back room as he yelled.  
You brush yourself off and walk around the counter, trying to ignore that guy. As you're grabbed by the arm, you groan, getting pulled back. "What?" He was touching you. Gross.  
"You uh," Oh shit. He was going to make a fucking move, wasn't he? This loser? Pfft, yeah right. "Want to get together today? I know we don't know each other much, but, well, I mean..."  
He seemed nervous, his hand trembling a bit as he held you. You felt a bit bad for him, but mostly his calluses felt dirty and rough  
on your skin that you made an effort to clean and keep smooth. Disgusting. "You seem like a cool guy, y'know? I think maybe we could be friends. I'm pretty cool too."  
Oh please. You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand away. No. Fucking. Way. How would that affect your reputation? Hanging out with some...loser?  
At least, that's what your friends would call him. You weren't so sure if you thought he was one, but maybe, just maybe, you felt a little sorry for him. He seemed really  
sure about this, really eager. You sighed before you crossed your arms and replied.  
"Sure." No, no, no, no, no. What the hell? What were you saying? Good job, John, going home with your stalker. Way to stay safe. But you couldn't help but feel proud  
when he smiled softly, standing up and nodding back at you. You were really insane, weren't you? He took your hand- wait. Wait. He /took/ your HAND? Yes, he did. And he  
interlaced your fingers with his as well. You didn't fight back. You didn't know why, but you didn't. You couldn't. You followed him as he lead you out the door, and  
you looked back into the window at Karkat, giving you a frustrated but mostly confused look.  
Your name is John Egbert, and what the hell did you just get yourself into?


	2. A Taste of Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuties. John actually isn't such a douche, I guess? We'll learn more about things in the next chapter. This fanfiction should only be a few chapters, I decided. This is kind of a boring chapter but it'll get more exciting guys.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you have successfully gotten the most gorgeous human being to come with you on his own free will. Okay, maybe that sounded a little weird, but for a minute he was acting like he didn't despise you that much, and you liked that.  
You remembered him when you first saw him, standing there, paging through a book idly at an open table at the coffee shop, clearly on his break. He wore an apron for employees and a concentrated expression that showed he was captivated by the piece of literature he held in his hands. John Egbert. You two went to highschool together. You were a year behind him, so you hardly saw him, but you remembered he had been his class's valedictorian, and he was a well-recognized honor student. You also remembered those vivid aqua blue eyes, the way they sparkled in the sun behind thick framed glasses and showed such a blunt curiousity that had captured you the moment you set your gaze upon them.  
  You two had an English class together. You excelled at English as compared to your peers, so in high school, you were placed in the highest classes, all of which you passed with flying colors. John was fabulous at English as well. You often had watched him answer questions, hand flying up in the air, particularly during the time you had had a project on Homer's 'The Odyssey.' He had some kind of facination with the plot and characters, as did you, and you enjoyed listening to him and the professor debate vividly over the several topics addressed. John was top of the class, but you weren't too far behind. Sure, you could have been like him, raising your hand, asking questions, throwing out your two cents, but fuck it if you were going to be social. Ruin your image by coming off as a eager-to-learn geek. Watching John in class, observing the way he bit his lip as he took notes, lit up when he spoke or was addressed- that made you nearly change your mind. Even so, you never changed your mind about speaking, especially in that class, because you loved watching him do it so much you didn't want to take it away from him. Of course he was in the front of the room, you in the back, and the seating arrangement was rarely changed. When it was, it was only slightly, a few seats give or take. Never close enough to get to John. Never nearly close enough.  
    John was popular in highschool. Super popular. The kind of popular where he was always put above everyone else, and his friends were dog-eat-dog pretentious douchebags. You tried often to recall there names, but had a hard time. You remembered Jade, the taller girl with the round glasses and long black curls that came to rest right under her breasts. You remembered Jake, the British kid who transferred there when you were in Freshman year. There were a few others, but those two were the few of them you could recall. They were the kind of people who made fun of people not in their 'clique' and you tended to stay away from them, and care less about what they did or said. Except John. You always took a liking to what he had to say. Because when he's not with a bunch of assholes, BEING an asshole with them, he's pretty wonderful. Sweet. Interesting. You wish he had been like that all the time.  
         After the both of you graduated, you had seen him at the coffee shop several times, even when he had applied to work there. Yes, you admit, you let your curiosity and high school crush get to you here, and kept visiting the shop after he got hired. You came right after work, around 4 pm, and ordered the same thing- plain coffee. Black. You never really liked coffee, so you drank that. As bitter and disgusting as it was, it made you stand out, made you different. He would remember you. Notice you for once.  
As the two of you walked, you walked in silence. It was awkward, you admitted, and you hadn't thought much as to what you would say. You kept your calm, breathing in sharply then exhaling slowly with each fall of your red converse to the pavement. Honestly, you wanted to ask him a lot of things. Reconcile your pasts, because you two shared a memory that you were certain included the two of you. His overbite, his raven hair, his dark rimmed glasses- you remembered them vividly. Mostly you remember the smell of booze on his breath, the way you two had actually joked around and got along in your drunken state at your sister's party.  
    When you approached your apartment, you held the door for him, in which he gave a curt nod and you followed behind him. John was awfully quiet, and you wondered why he came with you in the first place. Hell, you must've done something right. You unlocked the door to your home for him, entering before he could and keeping the door open for him. You were sure your brother wouldn't be home now, but you knew he wouldn't bother you even if he was. He'd probably just give you shit about this later, because he knew. He could tell, and somehow your brother knew everything. He knew you were crushing on some kid, not particularly John, hard. But he'd figure it out once he saw you two. John entered cautiously, and you offered him a seat on your couch. Your apartment was by no means fancy, but it wasn't neccesarily a dump by any means.  
He sat down, awkwardly shuffling and giving you a slightly confused and intuitive look, as if he was wondering what you were thinking. You took a seat across from him at the chair, looking at him as he finally spoke.  
"Who are you? And why do you keep trying to talk to me?" Looks like your predictions were right. He had no clue who you were.

"We were in highschool together, dude, don't act so oblivious." But you knew he wasn't being oblivious. He was being honest. He couldn't, no- he wouldn't remember you. For a minute there was a glint of hope in your eyes that had been shattered when he said those words. You eyed him as you spoke.  
John raised an eyebrow in confusion at you, opened his mouth to speak, than closed it abruptly. He bit his lip nervously, fiddling with his hands. You tried to decipher his thought, tried to see through his expression, but to no avail. You thought to respond somehow, but you choked back your words, not wanting to mess things up.  
"Oh." He said, almost snobbishly, but you thought you misinterpreted. "You're that one kid I had AP Calculus with, right? ...Strider, right?"  
No. Fucking. Way. He remembered you? Seriously? John Egbert remembered a dorky nobody like you? It's a miracle, bring out the dancing lobsters. You shake yourself back into reality and nod. "Yeah, that's me. Dave Strider, the one and only."  
He paused and gave you a cock of his head. "So what do you want?" You hesitate to answer, trying your best not to come off as a random creep, which in this case, it seemed almost that you were.  
"I wanted to hang out. You always seemed pretty cool, and I've seen you around campus recently so I'm assuming we're both at the same college?" He nodded, curiously responding to your assumption.  
"What program are you in?"  
"Film." He gave a wide eyed expression, and suddenly looked excited a bit.  
"Seriously? So...you make movies?" There was a kind of light in his eye, and it brought a soft smile to your lips.  
     "Not yet. I've made some shorter films, but I'm studying to become a director so I can make movies of my own." And that was the start of your conversation. Turns out he loves movies, and you let him take a look at your vast collection. You had an hour long debate of which movies were 'quality' and which ones just sucked ass, both of which you two had playful disagreements over. He was nice. You liked him. THIS him. Not the image he pushed on everyone. That stupid popular kid image everyone tried to get in high school.  
Pretty much by the end of his visit, you two had had several discussions on music, movies, and other media. You learned he really liked Nicolas Cage and Matthew McConaughey. He also really had a thing for Ghostbusters. It was so...not what you expected. And you loved it. Turned out he was actually in the music program at your school. He was a very talented piano player. You mentioned that you had dabbled in songwriting for quite some time and played guitar. He seemed actually intrigued. Before he left, it was already after eleven o'clock at night.  
After handing him a stack of movies that he was clearly interested in and hadn't seen, he was standing at the door.  
"Tomorrow then?" He smiled, nodding to you with a tilt of his head.  
"4 o'clock."  
Your name is Dave Strider, and you seriously think you just befriended John Egbert.  
And you couldn't be happier.


End file.
